


Alternate Ending: Red Sky at Morning

by literati42



Series: The Seafarers Saga [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Solarpunk, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Pirates, Romeo and Juliet References, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literati42/pseuds/literati42
Summary: Alternate (non-canon) sad ending for Red Sky at Morning. A departure from the Seafarer Series. MAJOR Spoilers for Red Sky at Morning. You've been warned.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Series: The Seafarers Saga [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987441
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Alternate Ending: Red Sky at Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tess_genor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor/gifts).



> For Tess, the kind of ending you (thought) you could only dream of. <3 Thank you for your amazing work as beta and muse on the original story! And to thank you, I give you this angsty nightmare.  
> I love you, girl!

“No!” Bright shouted back, “I’m not going. If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

Dani and Gil were already jumping to the platform before the words left his lips. The minute Edrisa caught her, the Flotsam’s captain turned back. “Bright!” Desperation rang in her voice. Then fire stretched through the sky, hitting the side of the little ship. The woman at the helm cursed and began steering it away from the Aria, taking Bright’s people with it. “No!” Dani screamed, reaching her hand for Bright.

JT cursed, “What the hell, Bright?”

Bright squared his shoulders, “I’m not letting you die here alone.”

“So, you’re going to die with me for nothing?” JT’s words slipped through his gritted teeth. He took a step, so he was back to back with Bright, protecting each other from the pirates around them. “These aren’t even your people to protect.”

“Believe me,” he said, “I know. Nico would be furious.”

“I’m furious!” JT said, and then Bright heard the slightest crack in his voice, “Why would do this to us, Bright? To me.”

“What am I doing to you?” he asked. There was no time for answers, no time for escapes. The pirates were closing in around them.

“Still yourselves,” said a familiar voice, in a perfectly calm tone that sent chills down Malcolm’s spine. The Surgeon of the Sea walked out onto the deck, trailing blood across the discarded masks of the macabre masquerade. His hand was out to his pirates, commanding them with a single gesture. They submitted to him, taking a step back. He walked toward the soldier and the Seafarer, his weapon undrawn.

The Surgeon of the Sea did not need a weapon when the crew moved with his every cue.

After years of staying one step ahead. Years of sailing from place to place, never staying still long enough to be caught, Bright stared into the eyes he had not seen since he was a child.

“My Boy,” Martin said.

Bright’s hand shook on his sword as he held it out. He felt JT at his shoulder shift the slightest bit closer. Martin’s eyes flicked to the sword, to JT, and then back to Malcolm’s. “Is this how you greet me? After all these years?”

“Don’t come near me,” Bright said, but he could not force conviction into his voice. His eye ached, the pain shooting through him at the sight of the man. As if Martin drew out the phantom pain with one look of fake concern.

“My boy, what is the theatrics? I’m hurt.” He spread his arms wide, “After all, we are gathered here to celebrate the wedding of your dear sister!” The Surgeon of the Sea pretended to be thoughtful, “Of course, her groom to be is a body on the deck, and she herself has absconded with, were those rebels? My, you have been busy! I love what you did with the eye.”

“Bright,” JT said, his voice low as if it was for Malcolm alone, but Martin’s eyes flew up to him.

“And you brought a friend!” Martin paused, and Bright felt his eyes examining them, “Or a plus one by that body language.”

Bright took an involuntarily step to the side, but it was too late to keep the association from his father’s mind.

“This really is no place for a reunion,” Martin said, extending his hand, “Why don’t you put that sword down and come with me.”

Then, before Bright’s mind could comprehend the movement, JT was between them with his pistol aimed at the head of the Surgeon. “I won’t let you touch him,” JT said, his voice full of resolve as if he was not staring down the most horrible man left alive by the Event.

“No!” Bright screamed. He saw the shift in Martin Whitly’s eyes. Saw the cruelty that slipped past the perfectly calm mask of a loving father and revealed the murderer underneath that sent countless people to a mermaid’s grave.

“You should be careful you do not make grand gestures you can’t back up,” said Martin, “Even if they are for love.”  
“He doesn’t love me,” Bright said, coming from behind JT and taking a step toward his father. “He is just brave, but he’s nothing to me.” Bright could not look at JT as he said the words, but it did not matter if he hurt or confused him, not if it kept him alive. Martin Whitly was a master of taking anything Bright loved and twisting it into a knife in his back.

“Oh, he is collateral then?” Martin said.

“No,” the word ripped out of Bright’s throat, and despite the fear he felt down to his bones, he threw himself at the Surgeon. Martin was startled, stumbling away from Bright’s blade, but he recovered quickly.

“Careful, son, that is sharp.”

“You can’t touch him.”

“I thought he did not matter,” Martin replied, taking a step forward. He stepped directly to Bright’s blade, putting his chest against it. “Well, if you are so intent on killing me, you better do it then. Chop chop.”

Bright’s hand shook.

“Bright,” JT’s voice again, “Bright. Step back toward me. We can face it together.”

Bright felt those words sink in his gut. His father knew, whatever this was between him and JT, his father knew, and there was no taking it back. There was no making the words soften.

“Kill the soldier,” Martin said, “And bring my son.”

Bright tried to make himself a shield, tried to put his thin frame in front of JT, but he felt the man’s hand on his shoulder. JT pulled him back, his eyes coming up to meet Bright’s. “I’m not letting them take you.” JT fired his pistol, killing the closest pirate in one shot. The Surgeon of the Sea spun on his heels, eyes flashing.

“I’ll do anything!” Bright said. Martin’s eyebrow raised.

“You’ll do anything?”

Malcolm could not breathe, could not make the cold leave his chest. “Anything.”

“Bright,” JT said.

“Get on your knees.”

“Bright…”

Malcolm lowered himself to the deck, sitting his swords down and looking up at his father. The phantom pain in his eye escalated, and the blood from his wounded arm stained the deck. Martin walked over to him, “Apologize for all the grief you’ve caused me.”

Bright looked up at the man. The father he loved once, and lost the day he realized the monster that laid under those eyes. Lost the moment Bright knew he could never be enough, the entirety of his love would never be enough, when what the Surgeon craved was pain. The man who had caused him nothing but grief. Who made his mother run off. Who cost him his sister.

The man who stood by while his eyes was cut from his face.

“I’m sorry,” Malcolm said, the word choking out around the years of pain gathered in his throat. “Please. Please let him go.”  
“Oh, my boy,” Martin said, stroking his hair, “Alright. You’ve bought him time.”

“Time?” Bright replied.

“Take him prisoner,” Martin said to his pirates, “He will be killed at dawn. Bring me son to my helm.”

Bright had seconds, no more to think or plan. He could only move. So, he reared up, grabbing the gun from his father’s belt and backpedaling away from the man.

“Bright!” JT called as nearly every gun and sword swung toward Malcolm.

“Oh, my boy,” Martin said, tone condescending. “Are you planning to shoot all of us? I’m afraid even if you have that shake under control enough to be a good shot, you only have six rounds.”

_-_-_

JT stood on the deck of the Aria, boots planted on the blood-soaked masks discarded by patrons who fled the masquerade massacre, surrounded by pirates clad in black as dark as the night growing around them. He did not believe his blood could run colder than it was at this moment.

Then the Surgeon of the Sea forced Bright to beg, and JT’s blood boiled.

Then Bright grabbed a gun from the Surgeon’s waistcoat, and his veins turned to ice again.

“Bright!” he called, every ounce of desperation in his voice. They had faced mutated mountain lions together. They had traveled through dangerous, uninhabitable land, only to be pulled apart and brought back together again on this of all nights.

On the night the Surgeon of the Sea attacked.

Bright took a step back.

“Where are you going, my boy?” The Surgeon said, his tone the kind JT could imagine using toward a child, but something darker laced through it. Possession. Ownership. _My Boy_ , he said, tone lingering on the _my_.

“Who are they to you?” JT asked, and for a fraction of a second, the Surgeon’s eyes lifted to take him in before going back to Bright.

“You haven’t told your lover?” The pirate grinned in amusement, “Communication is essential for a healthy relationship, Malcolm. Now, put that down before you hurt someone.” The man tilted his head to the side, “Before we’re forced to take action against your lover ahead of schedule.”

“No,” Bright said. JT’s blood ran colder still when he saw the near manic look in Bright’s eyes. The Seafarer raised the gun, aimed it for half a second at the Surgeon, and then pulled it back, pressing it to his temple.

JT felt it like a shock through him, and, by the slight intake of breath, the Surgeon did too.

Bright took another step back, and the pirates shifted toward him. “No one make a move on him,” Martin said all faux-warmth gone, his tone a staccato against the air. “Or I will gut you and everyone you love.” The pirates stilled, and Bright kept moving back toward the edge of the ship until nothing was behind him but its wall. “Malcolm,” Martin said, his tone a warning. Then Bright climbed up on the side, one hand in the riggings and the other holding the gun.

“Let him go.”

“My boy,” the Surgeon said taking a step toward Bright. Malcolm’s chin jerked up in warning, pushing the pistol against his temple harder, and the Surgeon froze, hands up like he was facing a wild beast. “Son.”  
Son. It could have been another in the list of the condescending names coming from this man’s vile mouth, but JT knew it was not. Son. The Surgeon of the Sea had a son, and JT was in love with him.

“You don’t want to do this,” Martin said.

“You don’t know what I want,” Bright replied, “You have no idea what I would do.” 

“For him? For one of Endicott’s men?” The Surgeon said like the words offended his palate.

“Let him go,” Bright said again, his eyes never wavering from the pirate’s, “Or when you scrub the blood of your victims off the deck, my brain matter will be a part of it.”

His eyes narrowed, and JT knew that look even after the short time they had been together. It was the look of defiance he wore that first night they met in the Pub. It was the look of defiance he gave as he shouted at JT about the ethics of Endicott’s colonization while actively dying of poison. “Bright,” he said, his tone barely loud enough to carry across the ship to him because he knew at that look one simple truth. Bright would do it. “Don’t.” Bright’s eyes flicked to his. It was just a second, but it was enough.

“Enough of this,” one of the pirates growled. He charged Malcolm, sword drawn.

Malcolm staggered in surprise as the blade went through his chest.

“No!” The scream tore from the Surgeon of the Sea’s voice at the same moment JT took off, not caring about the weapons now turning on him. He grabbed for Bright as the man fell, catching him by the front of the shirt as Malcolm slipped. He pulled Bright to him. JT sunk to his knees, Bright in his lap, the dagger lodged in his chest.

“It’s not bad,” Bright said, his voice tight.

“You said that when you got poisoned by the mountain lions,” JT replied.

“I lived through that, didn’t I?” Bright asked, eyelids fluttering. A horrible grunt jerked their eyes up as the Surgeon’s sword ran through the pirate who stabbed Malcolm. The Surgeon fell upon his own man, running him through and pulling it back out. The Surgeon stabbed him, over and over, each strike escalating in aggression until the blood coated his coat, his eyes, his face.

Then as if the violence had never happened, the Surgeon straightened up and used his coat to wipe the blood from his sword, but he left the smear of it on his face. The Surgeon’s eyes found Malcolm in JT’s arms, and then he was to them, his eyes full of worry. For a second, JT could almost imagine this was not the same man he had just witnessed reduce another human to pulp.

“Malcolm, my boy,” he said. Bright curled into JT’s arms, away from the Surgeon. “We need to get him to the ship’s surgery.” Then his eyes flashed up to JT’s, “Give him to me.”

“No,” Bright said, his hand curling into JT’s shirt.

JT watched the Surgeon’s cold eyes flash, “Fine, kill the soldier and bring my son to the surgery,” he said to the nearest pirate. When no one moved, his gaze snapped up, “Or did another one of you want to end up like Jenkins?”

Before anyone could move, Bright coughed, a violent wet sound. JT’s hand pressed against the wound, but even if he could stop the flow from Malcolm’s body, he could not prevent the flecks of red on the other man’s lips. Bright’s eyes flitted up to him. “Romeo and Juliet.”

“What?” JT asked.

“Dani,” Bright said, “We joked, you and I were Romeo and Juliet.”

“So, you thought you’d kill yourself and make it true?”

“I thought I could make sure at least you lived,” Bright said, his eyes fluttering. Another cough, another smattering of blood, and JT knew the wound had punctured a lung. 

“Give him to me,” the Surgeon growled, but Bright’s grip on JT’s shirt just got tighter. He looked up into JT’s eyes.

“Let him go, and you can take me,” Bright said to the Surgeon without his eyes leaving JT’s face.

“No,” the soldier replied.

“Fine,” the Surgeon answered, “He doesn’t matter now.”

“Go,” Bright said, his hand falling free of JT’s clothes.

“I’m not leaving you with these pirates.”  
Bright smiled, a pained, dark little look. “You finally used that word right.”

“He’s dying,” the Surgeon said, grabbing Malcolm. A gasp of pain escaped the younger man’s lips, and on instinct, he rolled into JT, into safety.

“The Surgeon isn’t just my father’s nickname,” Bright said, eyes meeting JT’s, “He can save me.” There was something in the way Bright said it. Something like the way he said he was ‘fine.’ Something that made JT sure of two things: he could not save Malcolm Bright and he would not let him die in the hands of his murderous father.

“I’ll carry him,” JT said, standing, the Surgeon of the Sea rising beside him looking for all the world a worried father if not for the slash of his victim’s blood across his face.

Then Sergeant JT Tarmel did the most foolish thing he had done in a long list of foolish choices he had made since he met Malcolm Bright. He shoulder-checked the Surgeon of the Sea and ran, carrying Bright in his arms, toward the first door he saw.

“Don’t shoot!” The Surgeon called, “You might hit my son.” Then in a calmer tone that cooled JT to his bones, “He has nowhere he can go.”

JT collided with a door and fell inside, laying Bright down. He grabbed the nearest piece of furniture, a workbench of some type, and pulled it in front of the door. It would not hold long, but JT knew with a painful lump in his throat, they did not need long.

JT turned to look at the room he barricaded them into. It was a supply closet, tight and dark save the fragment of light coming in through a small window. It was hardly as dark or as tight as the room they spent their first night in together.

“I know you hate closed-in spaces,” JT said, eyes going back to Bright. The younger man was still where JT left him, on his side, hand pressed beside the dagger lodged in his chest. JT got down beside him, pulling Bright back into his lap. “Let me look at that.”  
“You pull it out, I’ll die faster,” Bright said as the first thud slammed against the door. Bright’s blue eye and the one made of gears both looked up to meet JT’s. “They would have let you go.”  
“You would have died with them.”

“I’m dying anyway.”

“You got to do your stupid thing today, this one is mine,” JT replied. Another thud, against the door. JT could imagine the pirates taking turns ramming it with their shoulders. Bright coughed, the blood flecking his lips. He raised a hand to touch JT’s cheek, and JT caught it, holding it in his. JT’s heart clenched so hard he felt for a moment as if he was the one who was stabbed. “You’re the Surgeon of the Sea’s son.”

Bright flinched, and JT regretted saying it.

“I’m Gil’s son,” Bright said, “But the Surgeon is my blood.” A shudder ran through Bright’s body, and JT held him tighter.

“Maybe he could save you.”  
Bright shook his head, “I don’t want to be saved to be captured them. JT, I can’t. I lost so much to get away the first time.” Bright’s hand touched the mechanical device on his face, and JT knew that whatever the story behind how Bright lost his eye, the Surgeon was responsible for it. “Don’t let them take me.”  
“I won’t,” JT replied, staring down into Bright’s face. He saw the light fading. Then Bright’s fingers were fumbling for the hilt of the dagger in his chest. “What are you doing?”

“They will be through soon,” Bright said, “You’ll need a weapon.”  
“You’ll die faster,” JT said, the words barely coming through his lips.

“They’ll be through soon,” Bright said again. Then with what strength he had left, he pulled the blade from his wound. Bright’s body spasmed in pain, and the daggered clattered to the floor. JT gasped, then he drew the man to him, holding him closer now that the blade was free. He pressed his forehead to Bright’s.

“Why couldn’t you just stop writing back, Bright,” JT said, a sob practically choking the words.

“I loved you too much.”  
“You don’t know me,” but he stroked Bright’s hair as he spoke them, felt the younger man lean into the touch.

“I could have,” Bright said, “I would have loved you even more once I knew you.”

“You’re a fool,” JT said. “We’re Romeo and Juliet, huh?”

“Dani hoped we wouldn’t be so stupid.”

“Wow, bold of her,” JT replied.

“I know,” Bright replied, “Like she doesn’t even know me.” There was the smile, a trace of the one JT had seen before. Then, in that moment, JT knew it was that devil-may-care smile that first clutched his heart. It was that smile that did him in. He would die for that smile.

He was going to.

Another spasm rocked through Bright’s slender frame as a crack formed in the door from the abuse the pirates’ were laying on it.

“Do you think the mermaids will come for me?” Bright said.

“That’s just a story.”

“I guess, I’ll find out,” Bright said, then, “I love you,” and Bright went still in JT’s arms.

“Bright?” Crack. Another board in the door splintered, and Bright was not there. JT was covered in his blood, holding his body, on the floor of a ship under siege by his father, but Bright himself was no longer there. “Bright?” he said again, knowing no answer would ever come. “Bright?” A sob tore from his throat as the door tore away from its hinges, the desk scooting back. Then they were in, the pirates.

Sergeant JT Tarmel felt the barrel of a gun against his head.


End file.
